


The Way of Heaven

by inksheddings



Category: Wild Adapter
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-24
Updated: 2011-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-28 01:19:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/302152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inksheddings/pseuds/inksheddings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kubota should feel relieved that Tokito doesn’t ask him about the blood on his clothes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way of Heaven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Reddwarfer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reddwarfer/gifts).



> Thanks to my speedy and brilliant beta, **whymzycal**!
> 
> The title was stolen from a quote by Lao Tzu: "The Way of Heaven does not compete, and yet it skillfully achieves victory."
> 
> Reddwarfer, I used your prompt:
> 
>   
> _“I forgive everything about you. I shall become your god. This is your heaven, so if you die, I will kill you.”_   
> 
> 
> I hope it suits.

**  
The Way of Heaven   
**

Kubota should feel relieved that Tokito doesn’t ask him about the blood on his clothes. He should feel relieved that Tokito doesn’t ask after he desperately pushes and pulls Kubota out of his jeans, shirt, socks, and underwear to discover that the blood isn’t his. But it’s not relief that Kubota feels as Tokito sets the water hot as it will go and pulls him under the stream with gentle hands. It’s that very gentleness that fills Kubota with a sense of wonder, because Tokito’s hands have the capacity to inflict incredible violence. They could easily spill more blood than the leftovers that have ruined Kubota’s clothing.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Tokito asks. “Never mind, don’t answer that.” Tokito starts rubbing soap through Kubota’s hair.

“There’s shampoo—”

“Shut up, Kubo-chan.”

Kubota shuts up. He bends his head to give Tokito better access and watches the water turn red as it runs down the drain. As Tokito makes his way down his body—face, throat, shoulders, chest—he notices that, except for shoes and socks, Tokito is still clothed.

“I didn’t exactly think it through,” Tokito says after Kubota tugs at the neck of his t-shirt to point out his state of still-being-dressed. “Very much like someone else who doesn’t fucking think,” he adds as he rubs the bar of soap down Kubota’s back.

Tokito is even still wearing his glove, and the different sensations of skin, leather, and soapy water are enough to distract Kubota from the reasons why he’s taking a shower with a mostly clothed Tokito in the first place. He closes his eyes and just enjoys the sensations. It’s actually hard for him to say what feels better—the slide of Tokito’s finger tips or the slightly rougher feel of the wet leather. It’s going to be a bitch, trying to get the glove off Tokito’s hand. Kubota wonders if Tokito could simply tear his way out of it, if his claws are sharp enough. It sounds ridiculous in Kubota’s head, but the rest of his body must find it awfully interesting. Kubota’s dick is getting hard.

Tokito moves the soap in circles around Kubota’s belly. There’s not a lot of hair there for anything to cling to, but much of the blood had been concentrated in that area, so it makes sense that Tokito’s being extra thorough. Besides, it feels nice.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me, Kubo-chan. Really?”

Apparently, a little too nice.

“Sorry,” Kubota says. He opens his eyes to look at Tokito and notices that the water is no longer running red, but pink. Nearly the same color as Tokito’s cheeks. It’s a lovely coincidence that does nothing to calm his body down.

“Sorry,” Tokito says, with an edge of sarcasm. “You’re sorry for getting a boner while I’m washing fucking blood off your body, or are you sorry for getting the blood all over you in the first place?”

Kubota opens his mouth to answer.

“Shut up, Kubo-chan.”

And he would have, really, he would have. Kubota hadn’t planned on making a sound after Tokito’s demand for silence. But when Tokito licks his dick from balls to tip and then unceremoniously swallows him down—well, Kubota figures he can be forgiven for not keeping completely quiet.

Tokito drops the soap and places his hands on Kubota’s hips. He shoves until Kubota hits the shower wall. He slides his hands around until he’s gripping Kubota’s ass. Tokito’s bare fingers feel warmer than the glove, but the leather scratches enticingly against his skin. He’s tempted to ask Tokito to peel his glove off so he can compare the feel of fur and claws with everything else he’s already experiencing. But Kubota knows that would likely piss Tokito off, so he pushes his ass back, encouraging, towards the hands that are starting to pull his cheeks apart.

Tokito moans around him and pulls Kubota forward, pushes him back, pulls forward again. Kubota doesn’t need to be told twice. He spreads his feet a bit for better balance and places his hands on Tokito’s head. Kubota grips Tokito’s hair tightly and fucks his face.

One of Tokito’s gloved fingers slips between the cheeks of Kubota’s ass and starts pushing inside, just like that. It hurts, and the thought that the only thing separating Kubota from blood loss that would actually be his own is a piece of leather shouldn’t get him off, but it does. He comes down Tokito’s throat with one last, hard thrust.

Tokito releases Kubota’s dick from his mouth and pulls him down to the floor. He climbs into Kubota’s lap and wraps his arms around his neck, pulling tightly. Kubota tries to get one of his hands between them, wants to somehow get Tokito’s wet jeans open so he can pull out his dick, maybe get Tokito to fuck him right here on the shower floor, but Tokito isn’t having any of that. He just holds on even tighter, just presses his body even closer to Kubota’s. Tokito is definitely hard, but for whatever reason, isn’t willing to do anything about it.

“You don’t get to pull stupid shit that scares me, Kubo-chan,” he whispers in Kubota’s ear. “Do you get that? No stupid shit.”

“I’m sorry,” Kubota says, meaning it completely, but Tokito leans back and takes Kubota’s face in his hands, shaking his head angrily.

“No, you don’t get it, do you? I’m not mad about the blood on your clothes, Kubo-chan. I’d only be mad if it had been your blood,” Tokito says.

And Tokito is right, Kubota doesn’t get it, but he thinks it must be important that he understand what Tokito is telling him. It’s obviously important to Tokito.

“Please,” Kubota says, and Tokito kisses him hard, no tongue, just lips, but with enough anger and frustration that Kubota really does wish he could convince Tokito to fuck him already. But Tokito breaks the kiss and pretty much bangs his forehead against Kubota’s in aggravation.

“Your blood, on your clothes—that would be stupid shit,” Tokito says. “The fact that you didn’t make it clear to me that it wasn’t your blood when you first came through the fucking door—that was stupid shit. Coming home, alive, to me—that’s fucking smart, Kubo-chan. It’s fucking brilliant.” Tokito kisses him again, but this time it’s gentle, barely a brush of his lips. “Because if you ever get yourself killed out there, I will tear you apart.”

The water is getting cold, but Kubota doesn’t care. He has to get Tokito out of his jeans—at least—and so he pushes until Tokito is underneath him, his back on the shower floor, and he’s working at his zipper when Tokito starts laughing.

“What’s funny?” Kubota asks, though he really couldn’t care less if Tokito laughs, as long as he also fucks.

“Your glasses, Kubo-chan. Your fucking glasses! You’re still wearing them.” Tokito starts laughing even harder as he reaches for them but Kubota just swats his hand away.

Laughter, glasses, blood—none of those things matter to Kubota, not now—not with Tokito underneath him, over him, inside him. Besides, the water in the shower might be getting cold, but it’s finally running clear down the drain.

 

 **end**


End file.
